


Guiding Light

by solitudeontatooine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Coma, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Serious Injuries, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitudeontatooine/pseuds/solitudeontatooine
Summary: One Saturday morning, Padmé Amidala learns that Senator Bail Organa has been seriously injured, Anakin Skywalker finds out Obi-Wan Kenobi is unconscious at the Jedi Temple, and there is a sudden shift in the force. Coincidences have been known to happen in a galaxy far far away, but is that the case this time?





	Guiding Light

Bail

To be perfectly honest, Bail never really enjoyed visiting the Jedi Temple.

Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it. Everyone was always kind to him, from the guards outside the temple walls to the younglings in the crèche, and, with the presence of so many people dedicated to protecting the public, the temple was possibly the safest place to be in the galaxy.

Still, there was something unnerving about being in the temple. Perhaps it was the sight of younglings being taught how to wield such dangerous weapons, or maybe it was the way the atmosphere raised the hairs on the back of Bail's neck, as if the air was teeming with static electricity.

He had been to the temple a handful of times before the war had begun, and had been almost overwhelmed by the level of activity at every corner. Now, every time he visited, it felt empty. Most of the knights were generals in the war, stationed all over the galaxy to ensure the safety and stability of the Republic. Apprentices no longer played and joked around in the halls; the majority of their time was spent studying and training. Even the number of younglings was dwindling as parents decided they would rather try to handle their force-sensitive child themselves rather than hand them over to the Jedi. With the safety of the public as a whole being questioned every day, the Jedi couldn't afford to have knights searching the galaxy for neglected or troubled children.

Now, the temple felt hushed, like the halls themselves knew of the terrible consequences the war had wrought on the Jedi Order.

However, the uneasiness Bail felt as he walked through the temple was compounded by the fact that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic was walking alongside him.

Chancellor Palpatine was an old friend of Senator Amidala's, and Bail trusted her judgement, but he found, more often than not, that he was not in agreement with the actions Palpatine was taking. He thought that the Senate had given up too quickly on communicating with the Separatist Senate, and the decision to increase the size of the GAR seemed like a step in the wrong direction. Once the war finally ended, Bail didn't think he would be sad to see Palpatine go.

Bail's wariness of the Chancellor hadn't gone unnoticed, so it had been a shock when the Chancellor had chosen him to help with the situation on D'Qar. It may have been because of his previous work with the Jedi Council, although Palpatine himself seemed to be in contact with the Council quite often to discuss matters of war.

Whatever the reason, it was Bail Organa who was accompanying the Supreme Chancellor to the Jedi Council. As the duo made their way to the council's chamber, they caught the attention of many of the younglings and padawans. Most of the children simply stared, wide-eyed, while the older students bowed in respect as they passed. A few of the braver younglings snuck in a wave or two when their teacher wasn't looking. Bail knew that it was not his attention they were seeking, but he bowed and waved back all the same; the Chancellor appeared too concerned with the matter at hand to notice the commotion he was causing among the students.

When they reached the antechamber by turbolift, the two guards stationed outside the room bowed and held the door open for them. The Chancellor merely nodded his head in recognition before striding into the room, while Bail made a point of giving both guards a quick bow before entering the council's chamber.

The chamber, as with most aspects of the temple, was made elegant by its simplicity. Unlike many of the halls in the Senate Building, which had ornate decorations, the stone chamber held only a ring of 12 chairs for the council members to sit on, each with its own holoprojector. The circular room was nonetheless beautiful for its lack of decoration, because the high-arching windows allowed for a panoramic view of the Coruscant cityscape.

Given the nature of the war, it was rare these days for the Jedi Council to have all 12 of its members present for a meeting. As it was, there were only three members in the chamber when Bail and the Chancellor entered: Master Yoda, Master Windu, and, in the form of a hologram being projected onto his chair, Master Mundi. Bail felt slightly guilty for the relief the sight gave him - the only thing worse than addressing the full council was addressing solely Master Yoda. He had to admit that the small Jedi had grown onto him, but he sometimes had a hard time understanding what the Jedi was saying.

“Your Graces,” the Chancellor began, stepping into the center of the circle, with Bail behind him, “thank you for convening on such a short notice.”

“Supreme Chancellor,” Yoda acknowledged in his gruff voice, nodding his head.

“Representative Silbrin of D'Qar contacted my offices late last evening with a request to speak with the Jedi Council. He expressed interest in rejoining the Republic, but was unwilling to negotiate terms with the Senate before first speaking with you.”

“Does Dooku know of Silbrin's intentions?” Master Windu said.

“Representative Silbrin made it clear that he has no desire for Count Dooku to know of his planet's change in allegiance, and will only rejoin the Republic if we are willing to provide D'Qar with protection against the separatist armies.”

“Do we know what caused this change of heart?”

“I believe it is a matter of necessity,” the Chancellor said. “The people of D'Qar aren't receiving the necessary support the separatists promised to them, and instead are being forced to provide them with resources. Representative Silbrin expressed much regret at his decision to align himself with the separatists, and is looking to make amends for his people.”

“Talk to this Silbrin, we must,” said Master Yoda, and Bail found himself suppressing a smile. No matter how many times one spoke with Yoda, his inverted phrasing always took some to get used to.

“I have the coordinates,” Bail said, stepping forward. Master Windu got out of his seat and led Bail to the holoprojector in order to set up communications with the representative. In a matter of minutes, the image of Representative Silbrin was being projected in the middle of the room, and Bail and Palpatine took seats next to the Jedi Masters.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Master Jedi.” The representative's voice was loud and clear for being broadcast across the galaxy. “I am Representative Bogras Silbrin of D'Qar. As I explained to the Supreme Chancellor, I wish my world to become part of the Galactic Republic again.”

“A wise decision,” Master Mundi said, and Bail caught the covert smirk he sent Master Windu.

“However, to negotiate terms for our readmittance, I am requesting that you send one of your own to our world. I would rather sort things out with a Jedi, who is less likely to seek political revenge against us than many of my former colleagues in the Senate.’

“Understand this sentiment, we do,” Master Yoda said.

“We would be honored if Master Jinn were to visit. He helped our world in the past, and I am extremely grateful for what he has done for my people.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted imperceptibly. Masters Yoda and Windu shared a short but significant look, and Palpatine gave a slight cough.

“Unfortunately, Master Jinn passed away a few years ago,” Master Windu said quietly, and Bail frowned. He recognized the name, but couldn't put a face to it. Master Jinn had been deceased by the time the war started, but the name still triggered something deep inside Bail. Why did the name sound so familiar?

Representative Silbrin looked surprised. “I am sorry to hear that. He was a kind man to us.” 

“Another knight, we can send,” Master Yoda said, “although spread thin, the Jedi are.”

“What about his son?”

Now it was the Jedi's turn to look confused.

“Son?” Master Mundi repeated, puzzled.

“The last time Master Jinn was here on D'Qar, he brought his son along with him. He is remembered here as fondly as Master Jinn.”

This statement seemed to echo through the vaulted room for a moment before Master Windu cleared his throat. “Do you mean Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Ah, yes, Obi-Wan.” Silbrin smiled. “I remember now. He was quite a clever boy, with a sharp tongue.”

“But General Kenobi is on the battlefield, is he not?” Palpatine asked.

“Actually, I think he may be on Coruscant at the moment,” Master Windu said thoughtfully. “I'll comm him.”

Yoda, Palpatine, and Mundi continued speaking with Silbrin while Master Windu excused himself to talk to General Kenobi. Bail thought he was listening intently to the discussion, but he soon caught himself staring out the window at the skyline, thinking of home. His days were getting longer, his nights later, and he was often so occupied with senate responsibilities that he had little time to himself. It'd been almost three months since he'd been home to Alderaan, and he hadn't had the chance to speak with his wife yet this week. Thus were the problems of being a senator. One could get so bogged down by politics on Coruscant that they couldn't find time to go home to the world they were representing. Many of his friends on the Loyalist Committee often lamented how little time they got to spend with the people they were meant to speak for. With the Jedi being tasked as war generals, the senate's responsibility to handle humanitarian causes and mercy missions was increasing almost daily.

Bail thought longingly of his wife, Breha, back home, and, not for the first time, thought about the Jedi Order's policy on attachment. There were many reasons he knew he was not cut out to be a Jedi, and one of them was his deep love for his family. He could never have sworn off attachment, even in pursuit of a life dedicated to the safety of the public. He could serve the Republic in his own way, and still be able to have a family. The Jedi, however, made the Republic their first priority - they couldn't afford to have attachments that could get in the way of doing what was right. Bail had often thought the policy was rather archaic, and destined the Jedi for loneliness. But now, in the midst of the war, he could see how the Jedi's code of no-attachment benefitted the Republic itself.

Bail's wife worried so much about him, even though he was only a senator and his time away from home was mainly spent in the Galactic Capital, and he often found himself distracted by thoughts of his wife. If he and his wife were suffering from the separation as politicians, he could only imagine what the Jedi would've suffered. How many times had he seen Jedi return from fighting in the Outer Rim just to get sent off to another planet minutes later? How many times had he heard colleagues praying under their breaths that the GAR wouldn't suffer too many casualties today? How many times had he passed a hologram on the streets broadcasting the Coruscant Daily Newsfeed and been notified of the death of yet another honorable Jedi? He knew that the Jedi didn't have time to have families, not when they were busy fighting a war. General Skywalker had once explained that the Jedi Order was like a family, and Bail knew that the losses the Jedi had to deal with, from their own fellow knights to their troopers in the GAR, were more than enough without them having to worry about a family as well.

Still, when he thought about Breha, and the family they would have together, he couldn't help but feel sorry for what the Jedi were missing.

Deep in thought, Bail didn't even notice General Kenobi had entered the room until he was standing at the edge of the circle of chairs.

‘Chancellor, Senator Organa, Masters.” He gave an awkward bow. “Please excuse my appearance, I'm afraid I'm not dressed for the occasion.”

Bail looked over his shoulder. General Kenobi wore a Jedi robe wrapped around a hospital tunic. Most of his neck was obscured by bacta bandages, part of his beard was singed off, and there was something along his hairline that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

“Master Kenobi,” Yoda said, and Bail could hear the shock behind his voice, “unwell, you look.”

“Oh, I'm fine, Master Yoda,” he said easily, gingerly sitting down in the chair next to Bail. Up close, Bail could see bruises starting to form under his eyes.

“You didn't say you were in the Halls of Healing,” Master Windu said, looking at him sternly.

Obi-Wan waved a bandaged hand. “I was about to leave anyway. It's all superficial. Well, most of it. But you said something about D'Qar?”

The look on Yoda's face made it clear that Obi-Wan's attempt at changing the subject did not go unnoticed, but he relented. “Yes. This is Silbrin, representative of D'Qar.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head towards the hologram.

“Do you remember coming to D'Qar?” Silbrin asked eagerly. “You and your father were of great help to us.”

The Jedi's face looked blank for a moment before giving a small smile. “Oh, yes, of course I remember. Your people were very gracious hosts.”

“Silbrin is interested in rejoining the Republic,” said Master Windu, “but he would like a Jedi to go to D'Qar to negotiate the terms of their allegiance.”

“And we would be very grateful if you would come, Master Kenobi.”

“If that is acceptable to you, Masters.” Obi-Wan looked over at his fellow council members.

Palpatine cleared his throat. “I admit I am a little hesitant about this plan. The Jedi are already so busy, and, if you don't mind me saying, the politics of the war are hardly your forte. I think it makes more sense to send a delegate from the Senate.”

Silbrin's face darkened. “Perhaps it is best that the Jedi do not partake in politics. They can serve as a disinterested party, which I believe is appropriate for this situation.”

“D'Qar is a very influential planet.” Palpatine gave the curtest of nods to the hologram. “If our negotiations with them succeed, other planets may follow their lead, so it is imperative that D'Qar successfully rejoins the Republic.”

“And it is important for the people of D'Qar, too, that they receive the proper support as soon as possible,” Master Mundi reminded them.

Obi-Wan frowned. “Might we send both a delegate from the Senate and from the Council? That way, both the Chancellor and Representative Silbrin's concerns are accounted for.”

Bail heard Yoda chuckle. “A wise negotiator, young Kenobi is.”

“I agree, that sounds like our best option.” Master Windu said, and then turned to Bail. “Senator Organa, would you be willing to accompany Kenobi to D'Qar and respond on behalf of the senate?”

“I would be honored to accompany you, Master Jedi.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “That's settled, then. I will need a few hours to prepare a ship and ready my men. The healers are still looking after some of the injured troopers, and they all deserve a small respite after our battle today.”

“Senator Organa and I will get supplies for you to deliver to D'Qar,” Palpatine said, standing up from his chair.

“Yes, and Master Kenobi will take some time to recover from his own injuries.” Master Mundi winked at Obi-Wan, who colored slightly.

“We await you,” Representative Silbrin said brightly. “Thank you all for your time.”

“We'll see you soon,” Bail promised.

 

Anakin 

Life had never been so quiet and peaceful as it was now, in a large bedroom high up in the Senate Apartment Complex on Coruscant, worlds away from battle droids and Sith. It was impossible to avoid reminders of the war against the Separatists, a war that had been raging on for almost a year, but safe in bed with his beautiful wife, Anakin Skywalker tried his best to forget.

Far away from the screams of injured troopers, the piteous cries of civilians, the irritating voices of battle droids, the apartment was nearly silent save for Padmé Amidala's soft breathing. Head resting on her chest, Anakin could hear her heart beating, a gentle reassurance that his wife was alive and safe and whole.

He ran his mechanical thumb over the palm of her hand, and thought about the end of the war. What would they do when the war was over? Back on Geonosis, he would've had the answer without hesitation: he would leave the Jedi Order and live with his relationship with his wife out in the open. No more secrets, no more hiding, no more secret rendezvouses in the alleys of Lower Coruscant. Just the two of them against the rest of the world.

But now, nearly a year after escaping his death sentence on Geonosis, Anakin didn't know what path he would choose. The war had certainly complicated matters. Now, he had a padawan, and he had a responsibility to train her to knighthood. Despite his better judgement, he had grown to care for Ahsoka, and thought of her as a sister. He knew he couldn't just abandon her after the war, not after everything they had been through together.

And then there was Obi-Wan. His former master, his best friend, his brother. He couldn't deny that the many battles they had fought had brought them even closer together. A year ago, he'd still been a padawan, eager to break free from Obi-Wan's mentoring, but now, as a knight serving the GAR alongside his former master, Anakin realized he still benefitted from Obi-Wan's wisdom, though he would never admit it out loud. No matter how hard General Kenobi tried to hide it, Anakin knew that the war was taking a large toll on him, on everyone. He knew he would never be able to look Obi-Wan in the eye if he left the Jedi Order as soon as the war ended. Obi-Wan had already lost his master, he didn't need to lose his padawan, too.

Anakin's uncertainty about the future was his alone to contemplate. He couldn't bring it up with Padmé - she was so busy with her work in the senate and back home on Naboo. The time they spent together was already so limited, he couldn't bring himself to ruin that time by talking about the future. He obviously couldn't bring it up with Obi-Wan or any of the other Jedi, because his marriage with Padmé was forbidden by the Jedi Code, and it was therefore crucial that the Jedi had no suspicions of how deep his relationship with her had become.

There was only one person he could've talked to, could've gone to for advice. The one person he would give anything in the galaxy to be able to talk to again. He knew that after the loss of Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan had sometimes used meditation as a way to connect with Qui-Gon, to sort out his thoughts. But even just thinking about his mother brought back too many difficult emotions for Anakin. He hadn't spoken of her since he had lashed out at Obi-Wan, blaming him for his mother's death. Some part of him knew that he needed to talk about what he had seen that night on Tatooine, but every time Padmé tried to bring it up, he shut her down. Talking about the past was too painful; it was better to focus his attention on the present. But some nights, alone in his ship quarters on yet another war-torn planet, Anakin couldn't help but think of his mom. Of her kind face, warm hands, gentle smile. He knew that if she were still alive, she would understand what he was going through. She wouldn't shame him for the choices he'd made, but help lead him through the choices he would have to make later. She would make sense of the maelstrom of thoughts that burned through his mind. She would tell him things were going to be okay, and he would believe her.

But his mom was dead. He only had his memories of her, and his nightmares. He no longer had a family. There was a step-father and step-brother back on Tatooine, but he had no connection with them now that his mother was gone. He had never seen how his mother fit in with them, if Cliegg Lars had loved her, if Owen Lars had taken care of her the way Anakin couldn't. There was a younger sister, an older brother, and a whole battalion of soldiers always at his side, helping him tear down the separatists' armies, but they had their duties, and he had his. And there was his wife, his beautiful, enigmatic, determined wife, but keeping their love a secret put an unseen strain on both of their hearts.

No matter how many people Anakin was surrounded by, he always felt alone.

At least for this moment, he had his wife, but duty was always just around the corner, threatening to cut their time short once again.

The comlink on his wrist beeped.

“Mmm, who's that?” Padmé asked sleepily.

“Don't care. If it's an emergency, they'll try again.”

Padmé started to sit up, dislodging Anakin's head from her chest. “What if it's the council?”

“Like I said, if they really need me, they'll call again.” He brushed a few hairs out of her face. “I'd much rather stay here with you.”

"I know, but duty calls. Literally," she added as his wrist link went off again.

He leaned over to kiss her, distracting her from thoughts of duty and responsibility. She kissed back passionately, then smiled at him when they broke away.

“Have I told you how glad I am you got rid of that silly braid?” She said fondly, bringing a hand up to caress the side of his neck where his padawan braid used to hang.

“Many times,” he said, grinning.

She placed a kiss behind his ear that sent shivers down his spine.

“We could stay here all day,” she whispered.

“Mm, we could.”

She ran a hand through his hair, which desperately needed a trimming. “I don't think we'd get bored, there's plenty of things we could do.”

Anakin smirked. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“You're a Jedi, can't you just read my mind?” she teased.

“Well, yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

But before Padmé could say exactly what she had in mind, C3-PO entered the room. Anakin bit back a groan.

“So sorry to interrupt, Mistress Padmé, but Senator Mon Mothma is here and would like to speak with you.”

Padmé sighed. “Thank you, threepio.” She disentangled herself from the bedding, walked over to her closet, and slipped on a satin dressing gown. “Just - stay here and be quiet, okay? She can't know you're here,” she said to Anakin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Anakin said grumpily, and threw the blanket over his head. He heard Padmé laugh as she left the bedroom with the droid.

He sighed and took the blanket off. They were always getting interrupted. On more than one occasion, he'd hidden under Padmé's desk when a senator dropped by her office unannounced. Stealth was no problem for a Jedi, but he still wished it didn't have to be that way.

Anakin's wrist link went off again. Speaking of interruptions... He supposed he could answer it, since Padmé was talking with Senator Mothma. He sent out a quick prayer that it wasn't the Jedi Council trying to contact him before answering the call.

“Skywalker here,” he said dully.

“Skyguy, it's Ahsoka. Where are you?”

“I'm just visiting a friend in the undercity. Don't tell me the council's sending us out again?”

“No, it's Master Obi-Wan. He's injured.”

He felt his stomach drop. “What?”

"I've been trying to find out what's going on, but nobody will tell me anything. It sounds pretty bad, though.”

“Fuck.” He stumbled out of the bed and started gathering the clothes strewn all over the floor. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

He ended the call and continued his search for clothes, occasionally picking up some of Padmé's things by accident. He quickly tugged on his undertunic and pants, and then searched the room for his belt and lightsaber.

Padmé returned a few minutes later, looking harried. “Anakin, it's Bail. Something's happened to him, Mon said he's been hurt.” She ran over to her closet and began shuffling through her clothes. “She said they took him to the temple. Can you take me? I gave Teckla the day off.”

“Yes, of course.”

He abandoned his search to help Padmé into a simple dress as she yanked a hairbrush through her hair. It wasn't until he was helping her step into her shoes that everything caught up with him.

“Wait – Bail's at the temple?” he asked.

“Yes, in the medical wing,” she said, pulling on a coat.

“Obi-Wan's there.”

“What?”

“Ahsoka called me.” He gestured to his comlink. “She said Obi-Wan got hurt, and he's at the temple.”

“You don't think they're connected, do you?”

“They must be.” Anakin nearly tripped over one of Padmé’s bras as he scrambled around the room looking for his boots. When he found them, he shoved his feet into them, and grabbed his lightsaber. “I didn't even know Obi-Wan had been given a mission, much less one with a senator.”

“Are you ready?”

He looked over at her. She didn't look quite as stately as he was used to seeing her, but she was beautiful to him all the same. 

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Let's go.”

*

The ride over to the temple was silent. Neither of them spoke until they rushed through the doors into the Halls of Healing. One of the healers gave them a reproachful look, and Padmé apologized quickly as she ran down the hall. Anakin recognized many of the troopers laying in the beds, but he didn't take the time to speak with any of them. He chased after Padmé until she came to a stop at a bed about halfway down the long hall.

“Oh, Bail!”

Bail Organa looked truly dreadful. His leg was in a large splint, as was his wrist, and the hospital tunic he wore bulged from the many bacta bandages that undoubtedly covered his chest. His face was littered with small lesions and bruises, and his left eye was swollen shut. Nevertheless, he smiled brightly when he saw his two visitors.

“Padmé, General Skywalker, what are you doing here?”

Padmé moved to stand at the head of his bed, while Anakin stayed standing at the end. “Mon came and told me you got hurt. Bail, what happened?”

Bail shrugged. “Just got jostled around a bit. But I'm fine, honestly,” he said quickly as Padmé fixed him with a stare.

“What were you doing?” Anakin asked.

Bail gave a wry smile. "I'm afraid I'm, ah, not at liberty to say."

“Have you told Breha yet?” Padmé said.

“...not yet,” he said sheepishly. “I don't want her to cause her undue worry.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” she asked.

Bail gestured to a couple of beds to his left. “A few of the troopers were hurt, but nothing too serious.” 

Anakin looked over and realized that he recognized the trooper in the bed closest to them as Waxer of the 212th.

“What is it that the Jedi Council doesn't want us knowing?”

“Anakin!” Padmé said sharply.

“What were you doing, Bail?”

“I'm sorry, I can't tell you,” Bail said. “The council – ”

“I don't care what the council says. What were you and Obi-Wan doing?”

“General Kenobi? What does he have to do with anything?”

Padmé signed and straightened out the blanket on the bed. “I'm sorry, Bail, but you're a terrible liar.”

He looked between her and Anakin, and his shoulders sagged slightly. “You know I trust both of you deeply, but I can't tell you what we were doing.”

“Where's Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

“He's down in one of the private rooms, but they're not letting visitors see him yet.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Fuming, he started for the end of the hall, but Padmè put a hand on his shoulder.

“It's alright, Anakin,” she said gently, looking up into his eyes.

“I'm going to see him.”

He saw Bail shoot Padmè a guilty look, which only irritated Anakin further. He walked away, heading for the therapy rooms, but this time, Padmé followed him.

A Mon Calamari healer was exiting one of the therapy rooms when they made it to the end of the hall, and Anakin could see the name 'Kenobi' at the top of her datapad.

“I'm sorry, General Skywalker, but you can't go in there,” the healer said as Anakin made to step inside the small room. “We're not letting visitors in just yet.”

“He's my master, I want to see him.”

“I understand your frustration, but – ”

The healer cut herself off as Madam Che, the Chief Healer, walked over to see what the commotion was about. “Just let him in, Myra,” she said with a slight scowl. “I'd rather bend a few rules than deal with Skywalker's temper right now.”

Usually, Anakin would've offered a retort back, but he felt gratitude for Madam Che, so he simply let the comment go as he walked into the therapy room.

The sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi hooked up to so many monitors made Anakin's heart go cold. He studied the burns on the Jedi's face, the large lesion on his forehead, the countless number of bandages wrapped around his body.

Tentatively, he reached out to Obi-Wan through the force and felt...

nothing.

It wasn't like Obi-Wan was shielding his thoughts from Anakin, which he so often did. Obi-Wan's force signature, a warm presence, a gold glow in the force, was simply gone, replaced by a void.

“What - what's wrong with him?”

The young healer looked at Anakin sympathetically. “It seems that General Kenobi tried to shield the others from the brunt of the explosion, but he reached too far into the force, used too much of himself. We can't reach him.” She sighed, glancing down at Obi-Wan's still body. “You all have been overworking yourselves, General Skywalker. This was a long time coming for him.”

“What's going to happen to him?” he said, struggling to keep fear from creeping into his voice.

“We don't know,” she said shortly. “This doesn't happen very often. We'll keep him here and treat his injuries, but there's not much we can do to call him back.”

“Maybe if I tried – he's my master – maybe he'll respond to me.”

“... it couldn't hurt,” the healer said after a moment, “but I'm not sure that it will help any, either.”

Anakin approached the hospital bed, suddenly feeling like a child again, like his 9-year-old self sneaking into his master's quarters after a nightmare. He gently picked up one of Obi-Wan's hands and held it in his own.

Please, Master. Come back. We need you. The Republic needs you.

I need you.

 

Obi-Wan

Mostly, there was pain.

It felt like a rathtar was sitting on his chest, with one of its tentacles wrapped tightly around his head.

Pain is not to be rejected, but embraced, he reminded himself. It is only temporary.

Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes and found himself under a canopy of trees. Through the leaves, he could just make out the ceiling, disguised with lights and canvas to look like the sky. He could smell the grass and rich dirt below him, and could hear the gentle roar of waterfalls. Everything felt in balance, nothing out of place except the terrible pressure in his chest. He closed his eyes and allowed the living force to flow through him, to breathe peace into him.

“You have done well, padawan mine.”

The voice was achingly familiar, as was the comforting presence he felt in the force, though it had been years since he had experienced either. Obi-Wan forced himself to open his eyes again, and found Master Qui-Gon Jinn standing in front of him.

He was only a bit more substantial-looking than a hologram, tinged white instead of blue, but he looked exactly the way Obi-Wan had remembered him: tall and broad, with a dark beard and shoulder-length hair, penetrating grey eyes, wearing robes that had seen better days. Many on the council had said Qui-Gon usually looked like riff-raff; to Obi-Wan, he looked like home.

“I am very proud of you.”

Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, as Qui-Gon – or the image of Qui-Gon, rather – watched on.

“I didn't think being dead would be this painful,” Obi-Wan said drily.

“This is not death,” the other said with a small smile.

“Right, there is no death, only the force.”

“Hm. While I am sure the force has something to do with this, you have not become one with the cosmic force. Your body has not died.”

“Then what is this?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I believe the force has placed you under its protection.”

“What does that mean?”

The image of Qui-Gon started walking down one of the stone paths that cut through the plants, and Obi-Wan followed. “You did a dangerous thing on D'Qar. The force has put you in its care so that you may heal.”

D’Qar. The ship. The explosion.

“The troopers, Senator Organa – ”

“ - are fine,” Qui-Gon interrupted, holding a hand up to placate the other Jedi. “They are healing quite nicely in the temple.”

“That's where we are, isn't it? The Room of a Thousand Fountains.”

“It appears that way, but I don't believe we could walk out of this room and show up in the hall. We are not really on Coruscant.”

This only served to confuse Obi-Wan further, but Qui-Gon just continued his walk among the greenery.

“...are you really Qui-Gon Jinn? Or are you just an illusion?” Obi-Wan asked, although he was not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Trust in the force, young one. Use your feelings – what do they tell you?”

The smell of Cassius tea. The weight of a steady hand on his shoulder. The sound of deep laughter.

“It is you.”

Qui-Gon turned around to face Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had spent years agonizing over his last moments with his master, repeating them over and over again in his head, thinking of everything he wished he had asked, had said, had done. The sheer power of these thoughts had threatened to overwhelm him, and, at the moment, it felt as though he were drowning in them.

“I did the best I could, Master, to train him. Anakin. But I wasn’t enough, I am not enough." He bowed his head. "I have failed him, as I failed you.”

A warm hand reached out under his chin and tilted his head up, but he couldn't meet his former master's gaze. “You have not failed anyone. You are an excellent teacher, and an excellent Jedi Master. The Order does not deserve to have you in its midst.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He is angry, as I was. Head-strong, as I was. But he has more skill than I could ever hope to achieve. I failed to save his mother, I failed to save you – ” His voice caught painfully in his throat. His master's robes were dirty and ripped, but his tunic was completely whole around his midsection.

“It is not you who has failed, my dear padawan,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan looked up to see his master's eyes looked sad and distant. “What do you mean?”

“The force has done this for a reason,” he said wisely.

“Forgive me if I am not too grateful,” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon laughed.

“No, I know you are not enjoying this, but you needed a break, a rest, from this terrible war.”

“And what about the others? Don't they need rest, too?”

“Not as you do. They need this, though. It is serving them more than it is serving you.”

“I don't understand,” he said to his master for what felt like the thousandth time.

Qui-Gon resumed walking and remained quiet for a minute. “The force has changed.”

“Yes, Master. I have noticed. Ever since Naboo.”

“You're right, it has. But I was thinking a little more recently, a little closer to home.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “To be honest, I didn't realize.”

“Of course not.” Qui-Gon gave a slight chuckle. “This change is happening now, in the temple, and, in a smaller part, throughout the whole galaxy.”

“What's happened?”

“I'll let you figure that one out. The council back on Coruscant is certainly about to.”

“Why are you smiling?” Usually, Qui-Gon's smile was reassuring to Obi-Wan, but now it just added to his confusion.

“Because this needed to happen. The council needed to notice, and I'm not sure they would've if the force hadn't intervened.”

“You're beginning to sound like Master Yoda.”

Qui-Gon scowled as he used to when his padawan made fun of him. “I take it that's not meant to be a compliment.”

“You're being too cryptic.”

“How hypocritical of me.”

“Master, please.” It wasn't the voice of 18-year-old Padawan Kenobi, who enjoyed teasing his master and engaging in battles of wit, nor was it the voice of General Kenobi, the Negotiator, but the voice of a small 12-year-old initiate whose biggest hope was to become a Jedi Knight and spread some hope across the galaxy.

Qui-Gon stopped again, and placed his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders. “You are important, Obi-Wan, more important than you know. They have let you down. I have let you down. But that will all soon change.”

“...that really wasn't any less vague.”

This earned Obi-Wan a cuff on the back of his head, but he felt his face break into a smile.

“Insolent as ever,” Qui-Gon said, but Obi-Wan could hear the fondness behind his words. “You must trust in the force. It will be with you always.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I know you are in pain, young one. But it will ease with time, I promise.”

“...I miss you.” Obi-Wan couldn't help the words that tumbled out of his mouth of their own accord. “I miss your wisdom, your guidance.”

“I am always with you.” Qui-Gon leaned forward and placed a kiss on Obi-Wan's forehead. “But the Republic needs General Kenobi to save the day.”

“Do you like my beard?”

“Yes, I think it suits you.”

Obi-Wan smiled, and closed his eyes one last time, allowing Qui-Gon's soothing presence to wash over him.

“Give my best to the council,” Qui-Gon said with a smirk, “and to Anakin. And if you run into your grand-master, do let him know that I am extremely disappointed in him.”

“I will, as long as Yan doesn't try to kill me first.”

“Hm. He does seem to try that an awful lot. Take care, Obi-Wan.”

“You too, Master.”

 

Ahsoka

Ahsoka had dealt with a lot of difficult things over the past year. She'd fought battle droids, chased after rogue assassins, wrestled with mind-control bugs, and even battled General Grievous. In her mind, these difficulties all paled in comparison to the challenge of calming down a distressed baby.

“Shhh, shhh,” she whispered desperately to the Zabrak infant she had tucked in her arms. “Shhhh, it's alright.”

“Do you want me to take him?” Padmé appeared at Ahsoka's side, a 2-year-old wrapped around her leg.

Ahsoka gratefully handed the baby over to Padmé, who gently rocked him back and forth. Within minutes, the baby was on its way to sleep, cooing quietly.

“That's amazing,” Ahsoka said, keeping her voice at about half its usual volume.

Padmé smiled. “I used to take care of my two nieces when I was still living on Naboo.”

“You're really good at it.” Ahsoka bent down on a knee to get level with the Twi'lek attached to Pamdé's pants and attempted to coax the youngling away with a small stuffed bantha.

“You know, before they kicked me out of the medical wing, I was talking to Senator Organa, and he was saying that he's going to step down when the war is over so he can finally start his family.” Padmé brushed a hand over the Zabrak's horned head. “Doesn't that sound lovely?”

“Sure.” The Twi'lek had let go of Padmé's pants, but was now tugging on one of Ahsoka's lekku. “Is that what you want to do? When the war's over, I mean.”

Padmé laughed. “Well, Bail makes it sound like he'll give up his position as senator no matter how much longer he has in his term. I don't think I'll leave politics as soon as the war's ended, but I think eventually it would be nice to settle down on Naboo and raise a family.” She sat down in a chair near the pit where several younglings were playing. “What about you? Any big plans for after the war?”

Ahsoka finally got her lek out of the younling's clutches, and carried the child over to a beanbag. “I guess I'll just keep studying under Anakin. I think all the padawans are gonna have a lot of coursework to catch up on when the war's over. But Anakin says being a padawan was a lot different when he was younger. They had a lot more in-temple duties, like fixing speeders, and crèche duty.”

“Crèche duty, huh? You have one guaranteed day off and this is how you spend it, taking on responsibilities that padawans used to have?”

“You have the day off, and you're hanging out with me in the crèche,” Ahsoka pointed out.

“Yes, but I enjoy spending time with you,” Padmé said with a grin. “It beats waiting around for Bail in the medical wing, anyway. The only friend I have there is Obi-Wan, and he isn't much for company these days.”

Ahsoka ignored the knot she got in her throat every time Master Obi-Wan's name was mentioned. “I like being in the crèche, though. Or at least, I used to.” She suppressed a shudder. “It's so different now.”

Padmé frowned. “How?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “The babies are so much crankier now. Master Tu-Anh says she has a hard time getting them to sleep, and the older ones keep fighting each other. But it's not just the créche. Everything's different.” She sighed. “There's been a change in the force.”

The Zabrak stirred in Padmé's arms and mewled softly. “What do you mean?”

“A few days ago, everything got... cold. It's like – it's like someone put out a fire or something. The council's been in contact with most of the generals, and they've all felt it, too.” She shook her head. “Something's wrong. Master Yoda says he hasn't felt a disturbance like this since the invasion of your planet and the return of the Sith.”

She felt something tug on her leggings. A youngling was sitting at her feet, looking up at her with big, sad eyes. With a sigh, she scooped the girl up onto her lap.

“You were there, though, right? When the Sith showed up on Naboo?”

Padmé nodded, and shifted the baby in her arms until he gave a content sigh.

“I was just a youngling then, but we all heard about it in the crèche,” Ahsoka said. “Did you meet the Jedi who went to Naboo to fight the Sith? They say the one who killed the Sith was just a padawan - is that true?”

Padmé looked very confused when she raised her head to look at Ahsoka. “Didn't Anakin tell you what happened?”

“Anakin doesn't like to talk about what happened on Naboo,” Ahsoka explained. “Actually, Skyguy doesn't – ”

But she didn't finish her thought. Something had changed. Something huge.

Instantly, the coldness that had been pervasive for the past few days lifted, sending a warm, comforting sensation through Ahsoka. She noticed that the youngling on her lap had stopped fussing, and was now smiling up at her. Somehow, the room seemed brighter, and she felt a sense of hope that she hadn't felt in a long time.

“Ahsoka, what is it?” Padmé asked, sounding alarmed.

“I - I don't know.” The force practically sang around every being in the crèche. Some of the younglings began babbling happily to one another. Ahsoka smiled. “I don't know, but something good has just happened.”

The comlink on her wrist beeped. She checked the screen; it was Anakin. Quickly, she answered the call. “Skyguy, what's going on?”

“It's Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “He's awake.”


End file.
